


In a Cottage by the River

by Pearly_Ashes



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Don’t eat redstone, Grian has anxiety, Grian overthinks, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Fluff, Mumbo doesn’t know how to feelings, Mutual pining (a little), Personas not people, Redstone, Video Game Mechanics, mild panic attack, phantoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Ashes/pseuds/Pearly_Ashes
Summary: Grian and Mumbo being alarmingly dense about feelings. Enjoy.Just some fluff, practicing some things.
Relationships: Grian/Mumbo Jumbo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 157





	In a Cottage by the River

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read, know that I am aware of the discourse surrounding hermitshipping, and it took rather a lot of internal debate to post this at all. I enjoy hermitshipping, I read it, and now I‘ve written it. However, I want to make it clear that I do so only to the personas, not the real people, and not to any of the hermits that have expressed that they are uncomfortable with it. If any other hermits I include in fics change their stance, I will remove any fics portraying them in that way. If you disagree with shipping, I would first ask why are you here, it’s clearly labeled in the tags, then request that you please not make any comments saying it’s not okay for me to write this. I won’t be including a disclaimer like this on all my hermitcraft fics, but I felt it would be a good idea to clearly express my stance.
> 
> With that out of the way, please enjoy. If there are any mistakes I apologize. I was very tired when I was writing this. Also, if anything needs tagged that I haven’t, I’m happy to do so.

That smile on Mumbo’s face as he flew into Grian’s mansion was the brightest thing he had seen all day. He didn’t even immediately care why he was here, wasn’t even listening to whatever he had been saying when he first landed. No, Grian was much more interested in the way Mumbo’s cheeks crinkled a bit with how wide his smile was as he chatted excitedly. 

Grian picked up maybe three words out of his first rambling sentence. Something about a new farm? Oh, he wanted him to come see it. Or at least that was what he thought he had said, and the way Mumbo grabbed a rocket out of his pack and took flight, circling in front of the massive building expectantly only seemed to confirm it. 

There was no way Grian could ever deny that smile almost anything. But for the sake of his hopeless situation remaining secret for a little bit longer he made a show of putting the blocks he had been building with away, tossing them into shulker boxes haphazardly with a slight huff intended to seem like annoyance. 

It probably came out more like a gentle sigh, but close enough. 

With his building now quite forgotten, Grian took flight as well, enjoying the wind whipping against his face as he flew a short distance behind the man leading him over the deep green treetops of the jungle. 

They didn’t stop at the redstoner’s base, but Grian hadn’t expected to. He knew Mumbo had an industrial district for all of his most impressive machines. 

He couldn’t help slowing down a bit as they passed overhead though, swooping a bit lower to inspect the changes made to the structure since he had last seen it. It was even more impressive looking than before, towering above the surrounding landscape with its sharp angles and stark greys and whites contrasting with the lush green all around.

And yet Mumbo insisted he wasn’t really a builder. Grian shook his head, chuckling a bit before zipping ahead to catch up with his friend.

They flew all the way to the edge of the jungle, then beyond, past a small forest, and then over a grassy plain before Grian saw anything that looked to have been deliberately built. It wasn’t at all the sort of thing he’d been expecting. It was a farm, certainly, but of a much more traditional sort than usually came to Grian’s mind in relation to the name of Mumbo Jumbo.

There were several large, irregularly partitioned areas all carefully tilled and filled with plants. There was a big field full of wheat, a few beds full of carrots, neat rows of potatoes and beets. And near the center, where all the fields converged, flowers started to appear. At first it was just a daisy or a cornflower sticking up from the grassy tufts, but they grew more abundant the further he looked until they ended abruptly at a wall, made of cobblestone and wood. Grian pulled his eyes up from the carefully placed flowers to the building surrounded by them.

There in the middle of the field, next to the bend in the river that wound through the grassy plain was a cottage, quite rustic in style, complete with the little chimney, poking out of the precisely laid shingles of the roof.

Really, it looked like something Grian would make, and he only just had the sense not to voice his thoughts to the mustached man now standing in front of him tucking his elytra away and looking at him with expression halfway between proud and nervous. “Well, don’t just stand there staring at it,” Mumbo said “What do you think?”

“Well it’s definitely not the sort of farm I was thinking of when I came over here.” He said honestly. He immediately regretted it when the redsotner’s face fell a bit though, and he rushed to clarify. “It’s really nice though! I just meant I thought you had made a new mob farm or something, you know all automatic and fancy and stuff. Building doesn’t usually get you all excited, you know?”

He was immensely relieved when the smile returned to Mumbo’s face as he chuckled. “I suppose that makes sense in hindsight, I guess I should have been a bit more specific when I said I had a new farm to show you. I wasn't wrong though, it is a farm! And a cottage, and a waterwheel, and a garden…” He trailed off, fiddling his hands in front of himself like he didn’t quite know what to do with them, slight frown returning as he glanced at the ground between him and Grian

Grian, for his part, internally smacked himself, why couldn’t he just be sensitive and kind and able to tell what the right thing to say was just once? “Well, do you want to show me around then? Since I’m here and all?”

Mumbo hesitated only a moment or two before nodding, fidgeting for a second, then with sudden determination reaching forward to grab Grian”s empty left hand in his right, curling his fingers around it gently before using his then firmer grip to tug the builder carefully along as he turned toward the field.

The entire thing only took a few seconds, but it was plenty of time for Grian’s brain to fry itself, try pathetically to reboot, and then melt into a useless puddle all over again. There was a second where he started to stammer something out, but it was lost as soon as Mumbo turned to look at him, smiling hesitantly. His mouth immediately snapped back shut again, and all his concentration went into not turning the color of a beetroot at the affection in Mumbo’s eyes.

Most of the tour was a bit fuzzy in Grian’s brain, but he was starting to get a little bit of coherent thought back by the time Mumbo had finished showing him the various fields and the rather clever watering system he had hooked up. His eyes had that sparkle of delight they always held when he got to explain how something he had built worked, and Grian was quite certain he had a very sappy expression on his face as he nodded along to Mumbo’s explanation. As usual when Mumbo was explaining one of his machines, he didn’t really get most of it, but the look of happiness on his companion’s face was far beyond worth any confusion he might feel

When Mumbo had finished explaining (and showing off) his new redstone device, Grian expected the grip on his hand to fall away, and was already preparing himself to act as nonchalant as possible when it did. 

It came as somewhat disorienting then, when the grip did not lessen, and Mumbo started to tug him toward the house. “Oh, I made dinner! Well, sort of… I’m not the best cook you know, but bread’s not that hard, and I figured a bowl of soup wasn’t either, and then it got a bit messed up so I had to start over, and then Iskall was talking to me and I looked away for just a second and….” He was full-on rambling by the time he pushed the door open, finally dropping Grian’s hand once they were inside in favor of pushing him gently into a chair near the table in the middle of the small room they had walked into. Grian just blinked as Mumbo continued to talk, words spilling out as he headed towards the other end of the kitchen, dishes clattering as he haphazardly dished out a couple bowls of stew and placed a bit of bread on the plates next to them. “If it’s not right just tell me, I can get something else, I’m sure I have some steak or golden carrots around here somewhere…” He started glancing around the room before he had even set the plates down at the table, and his eyes locked onto a shulker box in the corner.

Grian’s brain recovered just in time for him to reach out an arm to block his path. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure this will be delicious.”

Mumbo hesitated for a moment, hovering between the box and the table, but Grian continued to look at him with an encouraging smile, and he conceded, shuffling over to the other chair at the table and sitting down somewhat stiffly. 

The stew, as Grian had predicted, was quite tasty, and sure the bread may have been a bit overdone, but really, who cared? It tasted just fine when dipped in the stew, which had a rather interesting spice to it that Grian was having trouble identifying. Whatever it was was faint, but added a slightly spicy flavor to the stew, making it somehow uniquely from Mumbo.

He loved it, and certainly planned to say as much to Mumbo. As he finished his bowl, he looked up to do so, just in time to see Mumbo looking at him and smiling softly, only to jump slightly and flick his eyes away as soon as he saw him looking. There was a dusting of pink on his face as he determinedly stared at his soup spoon as though it held the secret to life on its shiny surface.

It was one of the cutest things Grian had seen in his life, and he couldn’t help the way he sighed in an unarguably sappy manner and smiled wide enough to make his cheeks ache. It didn’t stop him from his initial goal of complimenting the food though.

“That was delicious Mumbo. Best rabbit stew I’ve ever had. You’ll have to tell me what spices you put in so I can try this version myself sometime, it's quite good!” He said.

Mumbo looked at him, puzzlement written across his face. “It’s the way people always make it? I didn’t put anything special in, just the rabbit, carrots, potatoes….” he trailed off a bit as his brow furrowed, trying to figure out if he had forgotten something. His spoon paused as he lifted it, peering into the bowl with a suspicious look.

Grian raised an eyebrow, flicking his tongue around his mouth for any remaining traces of the spice’s flavor. It did seem familiar, oddly enough. But he wasn’t sure what it could be. Unless…

“Mumbo...”

Mumbo’s eyes immediately jumped away from his examination of the spoon to lock back onto Grian. “What?”

“Did you put redstone in this soup?” Grian asked, fighting to keep the grin off of his face that was bubbling up as he realized what his companion had done.

Mumbo blinked. Then looked at his soup, then blinked again, before jumping to his feet and rummaging in the shulker box in the corner. Grian could tell what he had found before he even turned around, color seeping into his checks. “I… might have done that? Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.”

Grian couldn’t keep in his laughter anymore, almost doubling over in his chair at the expression on Mumbo’s face as he lifted out a vial that had previously contained redstone dust. The cork was very clearly missing, and only a thin dusting of the powder still remained, the rest presumably having been absorbed by the various foods that had been stored in the box. 

“It’s not funny Grian! There could be very real consequences here! Eating redstone dust is not something people ought to be doing!” Mumbo was very clearly trying to take the situation seriously, but Grian could see the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, just barely keeping his scolding tone together.

This, of course, only made Grian laugh harder, drowning out Mumbo’s sputtering as he closed the box and started to examine the pot the stew had cooked in. There was indeed a thin layer of sparkling red there, although the tears in Grian’s eyes prevented him from even seeing Mumbo had moved. 

It took a solid five minutes before Grian stopped laughing and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes, still chucking a bit. Mumbo had returned to the table by now, and had his communicator out, tapping nervously at the buttons. He seemed to feel Grian’s eyes had returned to looking towards him, as he immediately looked at him with an expression torn halfway between sternness and amusement. “Done laughing then, are you?”

Grian shrugged, his usual mischievous grin appearing in his face. “Maybe. Depends on whether anything else funny happens.”

“You think everything is funny Grian!” Mumbo said with exasperation. “At least tell me how you’re feeling before you go into hysterics again. I am actually worried you know.”

“Don’t be. Could happen to anyone who keeps their redstone and food in the same box. Besides, if it were really bad I’m sure something bad would have happened already.” Grian said breezily, starting to get to his feet.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mumbo yelped, jumping to his feet as well as he rushed to block the door. 

“....I was going to wash my plate.” 

Mumbo’s eyes flicked down to Grian’s hand, which was very clearly holding the plate he had been using a few minutes before, with the bowl and cup from the meal balanced on top.

“Ah. Right. Of course. Sorry” he mumbled, face reddening again. 

Grian sighed, set the dishes down by the sink, and walked over to stand directly in front of the taller man. “Really Mumbo, I mean it. You’re okay. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry so much.” He gave a small smile.

Mumbo returned it, although a bit more hesitantly than Grian would prefer. He took a long breath, eyes closed, before opening them again to focus on Grian again. “Thank you. I just…don't want to be the reason you get hurt. I’d feel terrible. Already do, really…”

“Oh, Mumbo. You really worry too much. I’m much more likely to get hurt because of something I did than anything you’ve ever done! You’re so careful all the time, I trust you. But you don’t have to worry so much either. Have some fun, take some risks! Just not as many risks as me. Can’t have you taking my title of chief mischief maker.” He grinned cheekily up at Mumbo before going back over to the sink, humming cheerfully as he filled it up with suds and water.

“Of course, I couldn’t compete there.” Mumbo said quietly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Grian looked up from the sink. “Did you say something?” His sleeves were rolled up now, bunched about the elbows, and he’d paused with a dishcloth half hanging out of one of the cups.

Mumbo jumped slightly. “No, no. Just thinking out loud.”

Grian nodded, grinning again. “Thoughts of some excellent redstone no doubt. Not to interrupt that brain of yours, but could you bring over the other dishes? May as well wash them all.”

“Oh, sure.” Mumbo straightened up, walked back over to the table, and began clearing the rest of the empty dishes, setting them down in a neat pile next to the sink when he was through. He didn’t move far when he was done, just sidling over to the corner where the counter met the wall. He leaned back a bit, arms loosely crossed and eyes half closed.

Grian was still humming, drifting through melodies without much thought to where the music was going. The dishes didn’t take him long to finish, and they were dried and stacked in the cupboard before Mumbo next opened his eyes, slightly glazed looking, to the sight of Grian standing directly in front of him, head slightly tilted. His humming had finally come to a halt, and concern colored the look in his eyes as they flicked over Mumbo’s face. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. 

“The wall isn’t really the best place to sleep Mumbo.”

Mumbo blinked slowly, registering what Grian had said, before forming a response. “I’m not sleeping.”

Grian raised his eyebrows, they nearly disappeared into his fringe. “Oh? Then what, may I ask, were you doing leaning against the wall with your eyes closed for at least 15 minutes?”

Mumbo’s face turned slightly pink. “....not sleeping?”

Grian chuckled at that. “I’m pretty sure you were. You need all the sleep you can get, don’t worry about it. Although I think your back would thank you if you relocated.”

Mumbo made a small grumbling noise, which Grian took as a begrudging agreement.

“Let’s get you back to your base, it is pretty late.” Grian said, reaching over to the rack where the elytra they had brought were hanging. He put his on, waiting for the wings to unfold behind him before opening the door and poking his head out. “Looks all clear, the lanterns seem to be doing their job.” He turned back to Mumbo, smiling, mouth opening to tell him again how much he liked the place he’d built, when a ghostly screech behind him made him freeze. 

Phantoms. He had almost managed to forget that he had pulled a few all-nighters recently working on the mansion, where the mobs couldn’t dive through and reach him. His fingers tightened around the edge of the door, stumbling backward in an attempt to slam it closed and keep the hated creatures out of the building. Unfortunately, it had quite the head start, and swooped through the door well before Grian could have pushed it close.

Even more unfortunately, it didn’t hesitate in digging its claws and fangs into the arm he had extended. There were two shrieks for a moment, one much more human joining the ghostly one that never seemed to end.

And then an axe head slammed down hard on the creature's head, and it dissolved into mist, silent.

“Grian! Are you alright?” Mumbo grabbed the edge of the door, shoving it back into its place until the latch clicked, before turning rapidly around toward Grian, who had tucked his arm to his chest, teeth gritted in pain.

He made a rather pathetic attempt at a smile “Yeah, it’s fine” he forced out. At least his sweater was red, he thought. The stains wouldn’t be as bad.

Mumbo didn’t even dignify his terrible lie with a response, just grabbed the builder by his good arm and marched him up the stairs, where Grian discovered that Mumbo had had the good sense to include a bathroom, complete with a cabinet containing a first aid kit. He didn’t get to see it long though, as soon as he had reached out and grabbed the kit, Mumbo’s steady pulling returned, leading him to the door at the end of the hallway, which turned out to lead into a small bedroom, ceiling slanting downward to fit the shape of the roof.

Grian, for once, didn’t argue as he was led to sit down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t really have the strength, despite wanting to do so as Mumbo began a gentle, but firm lecture on how sleeping is very important, and how long has it been since he rested, and there were  _ at least seven phantoms  _ out there, and that he was not fine, and that he really needed to get those cuts fixed up. He kept talking as he opened the kit, sentences rambling off slightly as his attention was diverted to shuffling the things in the kit aside in search of the bandages.

Grian was only half listening anyways, thoroughly distracted by the insistent stinging and throbbing in his arm that was only growing worse. Phantom wounds were never a pretty thing. The undead creatures always had filthy claws and teeth, and forgetting to clean out the cuts had been the cause of more than one nasty infection. It was also suspected that they had some sort of mild venom, but attempts to study that were usually more trouble than they were worth.

He blinked back into focus when he heard Mumbo saying his name though, enough concern tinging his voice that it was clearly not the first time he had done so. He lifted his head in place of answering, uncurling slightly from the scrunched position he had slowly been working himself into on the edge of the bed. Mumbo was standing in front of him, a cloth in one hand and the other extended, hand half open, toward Grian’s arm. He slowly pulled it away from his stomach, trying not to hiss at the way the fibers clung to the slightly dried blood. 

Mumbo winced in sympathy as he took it. His grip was gentle on Grian’s forearm, only enough to steady the limb as he began to clean the injuries. The cloth must have been soaked with something to more thoroughly clean out the wounds, because Grian had to grit his teeth not to make a noise at the stinging that quickly layered over the pain that was already there. 

“Sorry” Mumbo said quietly. “I’ll try and be quick.”

Grian nodded, grimacing as the cloth reached the two deeper wounds from the phantom’s fangs. He knew those would hurt the most, and was therefore not surprised, but still disappointed, by the slight whimper that escaped him as they were cleaned. Mumbo must have heard it as well, but he made no comment as he set the cloth to the side and reached for the roll of bandages.

The bandages didn’t take long to put on, although it was clear from the red already seeping through that they would need replaced sometime in the not so distant future. Mumbo tucked the ends of with the same careful precision he had done the rest of the wrapping with, letting Grian’s arm sink back to his lap. Grian missed the warm touch within seconds. 

It returned, though in a different form, when he felt a touch to his shoulder. He lifted his head, opening eyes he hadn’t quite realized were closing to look at Mumbo quizzically.

“You should really get some rest.” Mumbo said, without any force though. Only a warm sound edged with worry that seemed to be ebbing away as he spoke. “Don’t worry about getting back to your base. You can stay here. You shouldn't be flying around with those things out there anyway.”

“...Okay.” How could Grian possibly say no, when Mumbo had such a soft, caring look in his eyes, just for him.

Mumbo smiled then, reaching out for Grian’s good hand and pulling him to his feet. “No good sleeping on top of the blanket after all, come on.” Grian swayed slightly, but managed to keep his footing as Mumbo pulled the covers back. He almost protested, he certainly could do that himself, but his brain was getting fuzzier by the moment, and Mumbo’s hand on his shoulder pushing him gently toward the mattress only made it harder. He flopped onto it, rather ungracefully perhaps, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He wiggled a bit, rolling onto his side to see that Mumbo had moved over to the window, drawing the curtains after a quick peek outside to make sure no zombies were getting any ideas about the door of the cottage. 

“There. Hopefully you can catch up on some sleep if the sun doesn’t wake you in the morning.” He said as he returned to the bedside and tucked the bandages back into the first aid kit.

Grian made a noncommittal humming noise. Mumbo chuckled, pulling the blanket back up, and over Grian’s curled up form.

“Sleep well then. I’ll go and settle in downstairs.”

“Wha..? No, stay here.” Grian dragged his eyes open again to fix Mumbo with a look as he attempted to sidle out the door.

Mumbo blinked, seemingly taking a few moments to try and process what Grian had said. “I’d have to move the bed. I don’t want to keep you awake any longer if possible.”

Grian gave a sleepy huff that turned into a yawn halfway through. “No, I meant the bed… There's room, see? I’ll stay over here….” He squished himself over toward the side of the bed farther from the door, too tired to listen to the part of his brain that was berating him for his lack of self-control.

Mumbo took several more seconds to process. “Oh. I….um- right. Isn’t it...” He hesitated, eyes flicking between the door and the bed until they finally lingered on Grian’s face, smushed into the pillow and blinking up at him slowly, only half awake. Mumbo pulled his upper lip between his teeth, worrying it as he put a hand on the edge of the door.

Then he closed it. “Right. Okay. Just...hold on a second.” He turned his back to Grian, fiddling with something that turned out to be the buttons of his suit jacket when he pulled it off a few moments later. The red tie was slipped off as well, and both articles of clothing were hung up on the hooks on the far wall.

Grian’s eyes were starting to slide shut again by the time he heard footsteps approach the bed, but he opened them when he felt the mattress dip to see Mumbo sitting on the edge, leaning over to slip off his shoes. He felt a tiny bit of panic, woven uncomfortably in with a strand of guilt that began to jolt him back toward wakefulness. What had he been thinking? Mumbo was probably feeling all sorts of awkward right now. He probably didn’t even want to stay, he just felt bad for Grian in his injured state.

He didn't have the time (or the energy, in all honesty) to voice his worries before Mumbo had moved again, lifting up the covers on that side of the bed and settling in under them. Grian had been right, there was enough room, but only barely, and he could feel the way Mumbo laid perfectly still, hardly even breathing as he sank into the mattress. 

Grian had to concentrate hard not to let his breathing get noticeably out of rhythm, the rising worries crowding into his chest doing their best to make the rise and fall of his chest much quicker than usual. It was unpleasant, and was not in any way helping him to return to the frame of mind where sleep was possible. He was only partially successful anyways. While his breathing remained steady, the fact that his full concentration was occupied meant he didn’t truly notice when he started to shake. Not much, just little shuddering movements that made the blanket ripple, barely perceptible if you weren’t looking for it, really.

Unless, of course, you were in the bed, feeling the way the mattress shook along with the person on top of it.

“Grian?” Mumbo turned slightly, enough to see Grian’s face, buried more into the pillow than before, so his face was almost entirely hidden. “Are you alright?”

Grian didn’t say anything, and the shaking didn’t stop either, so Mumbo turned fully onto his side, reaching carefully out for Grian’s shoulder. He had barely even brushed it when Grian flinched, curling in on himself and making a small choked out noise that hurt Mumbo’s soul to hear him make, let alone be the cause of. He started to pull his hand back, to edge away from Grian to give him space to calm down.

Grian didn’t let him. His hand reached out as Mumbo started to pull away, grasping the material of his sleeve. The grip was both firm and fragile, clenched tight, but in a way that seemed ready to fall away at the slightest hint that it wasn’t welcome. Mumbo did not give the cue that it seemed to both fear and expect. He let his hand be pulled back, coming to rest on the small area of bed between its occupants. He let the other fall to join it too, and it was gathered up as well, clenched in an almost too tight grip and pulled closer to the man in the red sweater.

Mumbo spoke again. “Grian?”

A slight shift of the head in the pillow indicated he had been heard, and he waited patiently for Grian’s face to emerge a bit more.

It didn’t, not really. Only enough to see the shine of a dark eye in the shadows. He spoke anyways, keeping his voice to a low whisper. “Are you alright? Well, of course not. I’m sorry. I just meant, is there anything I can do?”

Grian didn’t say anything, but he did move. He pulled his head away from the pillow, but Mumbo didn’t get a chance to see his face before Grian had pressed it against his chest, smushing himself against Mumbo and pinning his arms between them. The shaking still hadn’t stopped, and Mumbo could feel it properly now, shuddering along Grian’s entire body like he was freezing in a snowstorm.

Mumbo froze, perfectly still again, straining his ears as Grian mumbled something. “...You didn’t do anything…I’m sorry…’s my fault, not yours.”

Mumbo hesitated a moment more, then carefully wrapped his arms around Grian. “Grian. Listen to me. I don’t know what you’re worried about, but I promise it’s okay. You didn’t do anything except not sleep, and we’ve all done that. Just get some rest. You’re tired and not thinking straight. We can talk in the morning, okay?”

Grian’s reply was more of a noncommittal mumble, but the way his shaking began to slow was all the answer Mumbo needed to know that he felt at least a little better. Grian made no move to move away, and Mumbo certainly wasn’t going to push him away, so he laid still as Grian’s shivering faded away properly, and his breathing slowly evened out.

Mumbo still wasn’t quite sure that Grian was asleep, but he was lost in his own thoughts, and he let them drift where they wanted until he, at least, was asleep. 

————————-

When Mumbo woke up, he was thoroughly disoriented by the fact that one of his arms was very asleep and very stuck under something warm that shifted, but didn’t really move, when he attempted to move the pinned limb. He cracked one eye open, blinking the sleep away to see a head of blond hair tucked in front of him, and the person to whom it belonged still fast asleep, breathing slow and even.

Oh. Right.

He leaned back a bit, starting to unwrap at least one arm so he could get to his communicator to check the time. It was late in the morning, but still morning at least. He was glad Grian was catching up on some rest, he clearly needed it. The number of phantoms in the air last night had been unnerving to say the least. Oh, he should make sure to check on Grian’s injuries when he woke up too.

First things first though, he had to escape the bed, comfortable as it might be. Tired Grian had been fine with, even welcoming of, this level of cuddliness, but he had a sinking feeling a well rested Grian would feel differently.

To that end, he gently rested his free hand against Grian’s shoulder, bracing him, as he tugged at his other arm, still trapped. It only shifted a few inches at most before the shorter man made a sleepy mumbling noise and snuggled back in, somehow closer than before and gripping the front of Mumbo’s shirt in loosely curled fists.

So much for that plan. Plan B it was then, otherwise known as the plan that does not actually accomplish the goal of escaping. If he couldn’t move without waking Grian up, then he could stay here a while longer. Sure, he’d miss a little time to get work done, but that was fine. Grian needed the sleep. That was the only reason. Not that holding him like this made all sorts of mushy feelings jump into his brain. Certainly not because it let him think about getting to do this all the time, or about how he had designed this entire cottage for two people without really thinking about it at the time. And then invited Grian over to see it immediately, and have dinner, after spending several long days building it meticulously, down to every little detail. And then had conceded to sleeping in bed with him with an embarrassing lack of protest.

He was really quite obvious, wasn’t he? Although...Grian had been the one to ask him to stay. Maybe it wasn’t as futile as he feared. But maybe that was just because Grian had been feeling so tired and emotional. Maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe.

Mumbo was so far into his head, thinking himself in circles, that when Grian finally stirred, it took him a few seconds to notice the change. It actually took him until Grian had woken up, immediately stiffened, and pulled quickly away, ending up on his back and putting the distance from the beginning of the previous night between them.

“Good morning.” Mumbo said, just loud enough to be heard. Grian didn’t seem to be properly awake yet, blinking the sleep away as his eyes refocused to the dim light in the bedroom.

“...Morning.” It was quiet, but it was there, and it assuaged some of Mumbo’s worry to hear him respond at the very least. 

There was a rather long pause while Mumbo waited patiently in the hopes that Grian would say something else, but when it became apparent he was more likely to fall back asleep than to let another word escape, Mumbo cleared his throat quietly to get a bit more volume. 

“Did you sleep well?” Pretty harmless question in most circumstances, but Mumbo internally smacked himself in this case.

Grian was quiet for a bit longer, absorbing the words, but the rapid blink and slight pink tint to his face when he answered a few moments sent a jump of anxiety into Mumbo’s stomach, afraid Grian was going to tell him to respect his personal space, and to never do that again, and-

“....I slept pretty great, actually.” Grian said, still quiet, but very clear.

“Oh- Really?” Mumbo sat up a bit, very much awake between the sinking anxiety of moments ago and a newly rising fluttery feeling he didn’t currently have time to poke at properly.

Grian nodded, as much as possible with his head still laying on its side. “How about you?” He said it casually, but with a sort of trepidation that told Mumbo he was expecting rejection again, just as he had feared last night.

“I slept quite well myself.” He said, settling back a bit and trying to sound reassuring. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had succeeded, but Grian stared at him with an odd look in his eyes for a few moments, before rolling back toward him, just a bit, but enough to reduce the space between them to the point that Mumbo’s arm, pulled in slightly but still in front of him, was just brushing against Grian’s shoulder.

“That- That’s good.” Grian said. His eyes flicked toward the window, where the shades were doing their best to keep the light out, but little bits of sunlight were creeping in all the same, casting a dim gold around the window frame. “What time is it?”

“It’s about ten thirty now.” Grian’s eyes found their way back to Mumbo as he spoke.

“Oh. Did I keep you here?” he asked, his hands plucking at themselves betraying his worries.

“No, no” Mumbo lied “I haven’t been awake very long either.” He laid quietly for a moment before impulsively reaching out and untangling Grian’s hands from the anxious knot they had begun to work themselves into. They were quite chilly, and Mumbo didn’t really think about it too much as he wrapped his own hands around them with a small sympathetic hum.

Grian’s hands twitched slightly, then he relaxed, exhaling as he sank back into the mattress again.

Mumbo slid a thumb along the back of Grian’s hand soothingly. “Do you want to talk about last night?”

Grian sighed quietly “...Okay”

“I know you said no one did anything, so what’s wrong?”

Grian’s eyes flicked downwards. “It’s….a few things I think. I mean, you know I haven’t been sleeping great, I’ve been busy with the mansion. And last night, well, I felt guilty I guess.”

Mumbo blinked. “Guilty?”

Grian nodded a little bit, eyes still focused on the pillow. “I felt like I kept saying and doing the wrong things. The garden, the food, the phantoms, and then the whole sleeping thing. I thought I was making you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, Grian. Sure, it was unexpected” He squeezed Grian’s hands slightly to get him to look at him “but I didn't mind at all. I only seemed uncomfortable because I thought you might not be okay with it when you woke up. And then you started shaking and I was worried…”

Grian winced slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He thought for a moment, considering Mumbo’s words again “You didn’t mind?” 

Mumbo gave a small smile “It’s okay. And no, I didn’t mind at all.” He paused for a moment. “It was….really nice actually. I mean, not that you were hurt! Just….” He trailed off into mumbles

Grian stared at him. Then he smiled too “I know what you mean.”

Mumbo hesitated. “....Are you sure?”

“...what do you mean, ‘am I sure’?”

“Just that….I think I mean it in a different way. A maybe-too-serious-that-I-don’t-

want-to-bother-you-with-way.” He mumbled out in a rush.

Grian was still staring.

“Right then!” Mumbo sat up quickly, eyes anywhere but on Grian. “It’s quite late, I’m sure you have stuff to do, lots of mansion and farms and stuff, I’ll just-“

“Mumbo, wait.” 

Mumbo turned his head around very slowly. “....Yes?”

Grian took a long breath “What if I want to be bothered with it?” 

“Well, um.” Mumbo said, very eloquently. “I guess I’d tell you maybe…..?”

Grian sat up then, eyes bright with something that looked painfully close to hope. “Then I really want to be bothered.”

“I-I don’t know how to say it!” Mumbo cried “I thought I’d just, sort of, never tell you!”

“Do you...not want to tell me?”

“No, no, I do! Just-just give a second.” Mumbo stood up, hands twisting and wringing without his notice. “Maybe turn around?”

Grian looked at him quizzically, but turned so his back was to Mumbo, sitting on the bed in a position reminiscent of cross legged. “Alright. Go ahead.” He said.

Mumbo opened his mouth, closed it, coughed once, then twice. “Um. Well I just- I wanted to tell you- Oh this is no good.” He made an exasperated noise, trailing off before marching determinedly around to the other side of the bed and speaking quickly before Grian could do much more than blink. “I like you! And not just in the friend way! There, I said it!”

Grian froze “What?”

“I knew it, I should have kept my mouth shut.” Mumbo turned toward the door. “Forget I said anything, let’s just check on those cuts. If you don’t want me doing it I understand.”

“Mumbo!”

“I’m sorry! I know I’ve messed up! I’ll leave.” he said, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the door he was heading towards.

And then there was a creaking noise from the bed and suddenly Grian was standing in front of the door, wincing as he held his arm but looking determined. “Mumbo stop! You didn’t even give me a chance to say anything! I...like you too.”

It was Mumbo’s turn to be shocked into stillness. Grian didn’t move either, the hopeful look in his eyes fixed fully on Mumbo, and completely ignoring the fact that his sudden movement must have reopened something, because the bandages on his arm had several slowly growing red patches.

Mumbo’s eyes were the first to flick down towards the injury again. “Oh. Let’s...get that taken care of. Hold on.” He reached for the first aid kit and backed away from the door to give Grian room to move back to the sit on the bed. “I feel like we should talk…”

Grian raised an eyebrow. “That makes this sound a lot worse than it is.” He settled on the mattress, paused, then scooted back a bit, gesturing for Mumbo to sit as well. 

He did, and with less internal debate than he would have thought, settling quickly and motioning for Grian to give him his arm. Grian let it fall into Mumbo’s outstretched hand with less care than perhaps was prudent, as he winced again. It was only slightly though, and it wasn’t enough to affect his voice as he spoke. “So. You like me?”

“Like was a shallow way to put it. Love, more like.” Mumbo chuckled slightly. “But yes. I do. I meant to tell you, but...it just never quite seemed the right time once I had really figured it out. Or even if there was a good time I just- I didn’t know how to say it.” As he spoke he peeled the bandages off, more confidently than last night, but still with the same gentle care.

Grian didn’t even seem to really be paying attention to what Mumbo was doing, beyond the occasional slight movement to allow him to get a bandage wrapped up eater. “Yeah, I know what you mean. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t know how to say it either…..I definitely wanted to though. I meant it when I said I feel the same way. I do. I...love you.” He gave a tiny laugh, one more of nerves than amusement as he withdrew his freshly bandaged arm. “Thank you.”

Mumbo smiled at him. “Of course. So, what now?.” He asked.

“Now,” Grian said, standing up, “I’d like to return the favor from last night and cook you breakfast. But first I want to ask you something. Officially, I mean.” He paused to stand up, taking a quick breath. “Mumbo Jumbo, would you like to be my boyfriend? Or significant other, if that sounds more proper to you. Whatever you like.”

“Boyfriend is just fine, Grian. And yes, I very much would like that….Provided you let me help cook the breakfast.”

“Yes! -wait. Why? I can cook!”

“Grian, I don’t think you’ve cooked five meals this season. You live on golden carrots!”

“They’re good!”

“I’m still helping.”

“....Fine, but I get to do the eggs.”

Mumbo laughed, “Sure thing Grian.”

The kitchen might have ended up a complete mess, and breakfast might have gone wrong in every way possible (possibly including a brief fire) but that was alright. It would have taken a lot more than singed eggs to ruin that day for either of them.


End file.
